


Bite Marks

by vericus



Category: Transformers (Bay Movies)
Genre: Fluff, Humour, Pre-Earth, Pre-War, adorableness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-13
Updated: 2012-06-13
Packaged: 2017-11-07 16:22:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/433116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vericus/pseuds/vericus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prowl was so going to get fired.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bite Marks

**Author's Note:**

> The prowlxjazz livejournal challenge was only _'Jazz and Prowl, on Megatron's Desk'._ Didn't say what they had to be doing. :P Honestly, I have no idea how this turned out G-rated. My smut muse just...rebelled. Features a young Prowl and an even younger Jazz.

"Jazz!" Prowl called irritably as he headed down another corridor, peering into doors and giving apologetic nods to the mechs and femmes he disturbed. "Jazz, where are you hiding?" A giggle drifted down the hall, and Prowl sighed, picking up his pace and passing the next half a dozen doors before he began looking in each one again, searching for the little silver form. He was aware that he was getting uncomfortably close to his own office, and while Ratchet might have shanghaied him into looking after his stray while the medic went to track down the youngling's actual parents, that did not mean the other advisors were going to be understanding that he'd lost the little hellion around their offices. Plus, at the end of this particular corridor was none other than Optimus Prime's office, and explaining to the Prime that he'd lost a youngling would be...embarrassing.

"I thought you had the day off, Prowl?" one of the advisors asked curiously as Prowl poked his head into the mech's office.

"I do," Prowl said with a sigh. "You haven't seen Jazz, have you?"

"Jazz?" the mech asked in puzzlement.

"The youngling Ratchet found," Prowl elaborated.

"Oh, hmm, I thought I saw something run by the door awhile ago, but he didn't come in here," the other mech replied thoughtfully.

"I see, thank you," Prowl said with a nod.

"Prowl," the other mech called out as Prowl turned to leave, and the black-and-white looked back curiously. "You might want to catch him quick. Apparently the Lord High Protector is visiting today."

"Slag," Prowl cursed, and walked just a little faster. This was a civilian facility, but Lord Megatron _did_ have an office here, and as a military mech, he would likely _not_ appreciate having a youngling underfoot, especially one as troublesome as Jazz.

And, of course, as luck would have it, when Prowl reached the end of the corridor, he had yet to find Jazz, and the only two offices left were Lord Megatron's and Optimus Prime's. Prowl hesitated - he'd really rather check Prime's office first, make absolutely certain that the Lord High Protector's office was the only place left to check, but there were voices coming from inside. Prime would probably not appreciate an intrusion, especially for something as trivial as this. So, sighing, Prowl rang the chime for Megatron's office. Thankfully, there was no answer, and so cautiously, Prowl palmed open the door, peeking inside to make sure the owner of the office wasn't there.

He wasn't, but Jazz was.

The silver youngling was sitting on the shelf behind Megatron's desk, happily gnawing on what looked like the Lord High Protector's 'Distinguished Service' medal. The medal that, if Prowl remembered correctly, was the first one Megatron had ever received, and that he had kept with him for many, many vorns.

"Jazz! Put that down this instant!" Prowl hissed as he slipped into the office, trying to figure out how the youngling had even gotten up there.

"Na! Is tasty!" Jazz objected, and continued chewing on the medal.

"I'm sure it is Jazz, but it's not yours, and you can't just go around chewing on things that aren't yours!" Prowl said sternly, giving up on figuring out how Jazz got up there and trying to figure out how to get him _down._

"Why no?" Jazz asked, pausing in his chewing.

"Because...it's not _yours!"_ Prowl said, frustration rising at the youngling's incessant questions.

"But is tasty," Jazz replied reasonably.

"And if you wreck it, the mech who owns it might get upset," _with me,_ Prowl added mentally. He really didn't want to be on Lord Megatron's bad side.

"I say sorry then?" Jazz suggested.

"Sorry doesn't always work Jazz," Prowl replied as he concluded that the only way to remove Jazz from the shelf if the youngling didn't come down himself was to - Primus save him - stand on Lord Megatron's _desk._

"I say sorry really well?" Jazz suggested in reply.

"Jazz, just put the medal down and come down from there. That way you won't have to say sorry at all," Prowl replied reasonably.

"Na," Jazz said with a shake of his head, and resumed chewing on the medal.

"Jazz! Get down here this instant!" Prowl tried, doing his best growling-Ratchet impression. It seemed to work for a moment, Jazz actually putting the medal down and peering over the edge of the shelf.

"Can't," the youngling declared after a moment.

"Can't?" Prowl asked in disbelief. Jazz nodded more sagely than any youngling had a right to.

"Am stuck," he declared, then picked up the medal and resumed chewing. Even from here, Prowl could see little bite marks along its edge now. Worried that Megatron might come back, and wanting to get the medal away from Jazz, Prowl hesitantly moved towards the desk.

"I'm so going to get fired," Prowl mumbled to himself as he saw the datapads scattered across the top of the desk - he was going to have to move them. If he paid close attention, he _might_ be able to put them back exactly as he found them, as long as Jazz behaved while he was doing it. Which was unlikely. Prowl decided that when he got fired, he was taking Ratchet with him. Never mind that he was one of Prime's junior advisors, and Ratchet was the head of the medical division at this facility. They were both going to get fired for this.

"What doin?" Jazz asked curiously as Prowl began carefully moving the datapads out of the way.

"I am clearing the desk so that I can stand on it to get you down, Jazz," Prowl said irritably.

"Not 'lowed to climb on fern-ee-chur," Jazz said, sounding out the last word carefully.

"And how exactly did you get up there, hmm Jazz?" Prowl asked. Jazz was quiet.

"We get in trouble?" the silver youngling asked after a moment, quietly.

"Quite likely, Jazz," Prowl said as he moved the last of the datapads and used the chair as a step up onto the desk. He winced at the scuff marks he left in the chair seat, and realized he'd have to rub them out of both chair and desktop. Turning, he found Jazz sitting on the shelf morosely, the medal back in its original spot, clearly chewed on, but not _entirely_ ruined.

"Me sorry," Jazz said, holding out his arms, and Prowl sighed, reaching out for the youngling. As rambunctious and troublesome as he was, no one could ever stay mad at Jazz for long. He was far too cute, and could look truly pathetic when he was sad.

"It's alright Jazz, no _real_ harm done," Prowl said as he picked Jazz up. As soon as he was within ranged, Jazz latched onto Prowl's neck and curled into it, clicking happily. "Just as long as you sit still while I put everything back," Prowl said warningly as he jumped down. "I don't think Lord Megatron would be too pleased to come back and find his chair dirty and his desk messed up."

"Um. Uh-oh." Jazz's little voice had Prowl stiffening - Jazz saying 'uh-oh' was _never_ a good thing. And considering the circumstances, Jazz's 'uh-oh' could only mean a few things, one of which was -

"I think Lord Megatron can survive a little dirt and clutter," a rumbling voice said from behind Prowl, confirming his worst fears. The black-and-white slowly turned around, hoping that perhaps it was just someone doing a really good impression, but to his dismay, Lord Megatron was, in fact, standing in the doorway.

"Uh, Lord Megatron, sir," Prowl said, carefully keeping his nervousness out of his voice. "I was just, um,"

"Fetching a youngling from where he'd gotten himself stuck?" Megatron said with amusement. Prowl paused.

"Exactly," he said.

"It's alright, I understand. I was a youngling once myself - I can't even count the number of times Orion and I got ourselves stuck someplace inappropriate and had to be rescued," Megatron said, chuckling slightly, then looked curiously at the little silver bundle clinging to Prowl's neck. "I wasn't aware that there were any younglings at this facility, however."

"He's...a stray, that Ratchet found," Prowl said carefully.

"Not stray. Found," Jazz mumbled shyly from Prowl's neck, peeking out at Megatron.

"So you are, young one," Megatron said, smiling gently at the youngling. It was somehow...disturbing for Prowl to see the expression on the Lord High Protector's usually scowling visage, and he quickly excused himself and Jazz, apologizing for the mess and letting Megatron know how he'd stacked the datapads. The large black mech watched them go with amusement.

"Him not so bad. No get mad bout chewin," Jazz declared as they walked down the corridor.

"Shhhh!" Prowl said, slapping his hand over Jazz's mouth and picking up his pace. Despite Jazz's optimism, he didn't want to be anywhere near here when Megatron looked at that medal.


End file.
